First Love
Her eyes showed me a way,
Her unique smile let my tears go away,
Her Beautiful face made me to say,
Is this Love, or what???
Started to have feeling of love,
Started to behave nicely and different,
Started to smile when there was no reason to smile,
Still, Is this Love, or what??
Tried to approach her, but felt belittled, lowly, shy,
Tried to ask her for date, but felt afraid, scared, shocked,
Tried to express my love, felt would be rejected, hurt, unheard,
Well still, Is this love, or what?
I can fix anything, why not this thing,
I can talk to any girl, why not this girl,
I can really convince anyone, why not this one,
Came before many girl, why not this girl.
Do please not tell me its just nothing,
Do tell me how to do something about this thing...Love,
Do tell me anything about this thing…Love,
Will there be rejection or appreciation??????????

You are simply a work of art.
I’ve known it from the very start,
But you won’t find me hittin’ on ya.
For I’m just an old guy
With a twinkle in his eye;
Happy just to gaze upon ya.
My old heart quickens it pace
Each time I see your pretty face,
A face that every man should see.
Sometimes, just for a while,
Each time I see you smile,
I imagine it's just for me.
And, when I hear your voice,
For just a moment, I rejoice.
Yes, it’s music to these old ears.
But more than a work of art,
You’re warm and funny and smart.
Simply a beautiful person, my dear.
Though with you I’m quite smitten,
My words are respectfully written;
And every word is true.
But, if I weren’t so old,
If I were better looking and a little bold,
I would simply say, “I love you.”

I just wanted to let you know
That I have this love for you...
Although I'm not fast to show
For you, there's nothing I wouldn't do
And I can't control this love
No matter what I try to do...
While I know our lives are separating
Which has got me pretty blue
I just want you to know
How much I love you...
Because I was blinded by shyness
And now my heart's feeling rugged
So this here's An Ode To My Beloved
Oh how I still see you every night in my mind
You're the best girl I feel I'll ever find
And when my eyes would fall upon your smile
My heart would be put on trial
And so if nothing else, I want to let you know
That I'll always love you, that my hearts beat
For you, won't ever slow...
Because I was blinded by shyness
And now my heart's feeling rugged
So this here's An Ode To My Beloved
So I wish you happiness beyond compare
And sorry for the times I couldn't help but stare
Caring, passionate, smart, and loving
From my heart, to you, I'll never be shoving
You will always be in my heart
No matter where we go, how far we drift apart...
Goodbye My Love...

Loveliness that's deep and that's rare
is like a rose that blooms afresh
(like the rosebud that's new and fair);
lovely in aspect and in flesh,
it lives in sunlight without care
letting all the sky breathe and mesh.
Its loveliness is hard to find
unspoiled and as innocent;
and with its tint and with its rind
it quells my musing discontent.
As it sighs (softly and from behind),
my nose takes in its lovely scent.
Its beauty transcends its locus,
imbuing the eyes of my soul
with romantic, ideal focus
that makes the heart and the mind whole:
without it the world seems callous
and grace would not be in control.

All's easily accepted, net and gross,
Yet, nothing's so taken as was first meant;
Standard batteries come so close,
Matters, measures belong to the present,
It all seems very certain and cheerless,
Always forever this very instance,
Remains our own framed immediacy,
All of it, it's all about sheer nearness,
Desperation of negated distance,
The slow gentleness of intimacy.
And yet... and yet... and yet...and yet... and yet,
And yet, there remains something to be said,
Of needs, of stirring belongings here met,
Of how the immaculate's put to bed;
We, the unavoidably become static,
We are inevitable, settled dust,
And, no more important than nothing much;
Yet, degree of purpose is erratic,
I'm alive with some pursuit after lust,
I yearn, only, after another's touch.
Everything occurs in our own due time,
Each miniscule point happens as though now,
So invested in this very same rhyme,
'Pon it's own alter, some beheaded cow;
Down, down, down...down to very seconds, down,
All matters, all measures are here present,
All you gotta do is just tell me when,
Gather my attention in your wrapp'd gown,
Where imagination might soon be meant...
Whisper in my ear, I'll be ready then.